


Arthur's Hat

by CCA03



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Arthur needs a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Young Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17334899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCA03/pseuds/CCA03
Summary: How Arthur Morgan came to be wearing his father’s hat and began running with Dutch and Hosea.





	Arthur's Hat

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I should be writing The Hunting Trip but this damn idea wouldn’t go to bed!! What can I say, I tried a few times to write other stories and this is one wanted to be written oh so badly. So hope you do not mind! 
> 
> Again, what can I say about Arthur Morgan? I think I could write a college essay on this guy and why he probably will be my favorite protagonist for years to come. I guess one thing that bugs me is why and how does a child go from hating and loathing somebody so much to wanting to have their hat? This is my take, until Rockstar is so kindly to give us maybe a comic book, a TV show, SOMETHING MORE? No…what can I say I’m greedy. Well, I just hope I did it justice in the end and you like this story I created. 
> 
> I do NOT own anything, only the great and lovely people of Rockstar owns these characters. I just hope they don’t mind me taking them and playing around a little! 
> 
> Timeline: You’ll see! Plus, if you read the summary you’ll kind of figure out where we are in the timeline. 
> 
> Warnings: There is some implied/talk of rape. If this does not suit you, then I say walk away now. Also, some mild cussing. 
> 
> Final Notes: If you see any mistakes,…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I tried I’m sorry lol. Now with out more blabbering (does anyone actually read my notes lol?)…I give you my story!

Arthur’s Hat

The sound of the man swinging was louder then anyone or anything at that very moment in time.  Townspeople talking to one another, horses neighing to other horses or people and all the other noises of a small western town were completely and utterly drowned out by the sound of the rope moving under the weight of the man.  Arthur Morgan could not stop staring at the person in front of him as he watched the individual struggle to breathe.  The fall had not broken his neck. Normally the hangings that happened in this town were done with precision and calculation to make sure the most humane way for the guilty to not suffer was to break their neck on impact.  However, whoever tied the knot this time had grossly missed calculated and for Arthur Morgan he could have not been more thrilled.  Arthur knew it was only a matter of time before the man succumb to the lack of oxygen, but for that moment in time he got to watch this man suffer and it pleased Arthur to his very core.  He watched as the man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, squirming trying to find some way of receiving air that would not come to him.  

“OPEN YOUR EYES!” 

Arthur couldn’t believe he had shouted that, but it came out with such raw emotion, pint up anger and frustration and sadness all rolled into one.  He wanted this man to know he was here, and he wanted this man to know he was going to watch him take his dying breath.  He didn’t realize how tightly he had his hands squeezed as he continue to dig his fingernails into his palm. Arthur then watched as the man’s eyes shot open suddenly and looked at him and then smiled.  He smiled.  The bastard had the audacity to smile!  Without thinking about it, Arthur began to charge but felt hands grab him and hold him in place as Arthur tried to get to the man in front of him.

“Just let him go son.  It’s almost over.” 

The man was almost dead, his face became red along with the blood vessels in his eye’s started to burst making them blood red, it was the last stages as the man’s organs began to shut down.  With one final kick for life Lyle Morgan died, making Arthur Morgan into an orphan at the tinder age of eleven years old.  For Arthur though he felt like he was much older then his given age.  He felt thirty by the time this event in his life happened.  He didn’t realize the hands were still on his shoulders and he roughly pulled away from them, Arthur continued to stare down the man that had made his life a living hell and making sure he collected enough spit he could muster he reared back onto the heels of his feet and then shifted forward to use the momentum to spit a huge loogie onto Lyle Morgan’s dead body. 

Arthur Morgan then spun around quickly and ran.  He ran until his legs hurt.  He ran until he could no longer breathe, and the tears became mixed with sweat.  He didn’t care he just ran.  His legs began to feel heavy as he continued pushing every muscle to its limit as he breathed hard trying to capture the air into his lungs.  He never noticed the upturned grass or realized what had caused his fall, but fall he did as he stumbled to the ground hard.  He put his hands to catch himself and he felt the dirt underneath his scrapped palms.  He clenched it and made a ball with both of his fists.  Growling he stood up and realized where he was.  As he stood there, he contemplated about if he should go and not be bothered or if he should make peace with this demon.  Not one to dwell to long in thoughts, Arthur made a choice as he slowly began to move towards his destination with a slow gait.  Making sure to be extra careful not to miss his footing for he did not want to disturb what was underneath, he continued to do this delicate dance for a few minutes till he came to the marker, the old grave of Beatrice Morgan.

He angrily rubbed tear that fell.  He hated that he was crying.  Only little girls cried, and mostly women that he saw.  Men did not cry.  He had to be strong.  But why did he hurt so much and felt so alone in the world?  Arthur hated his father with a passion, yet in a weird way Arthur was never alone when he had him.  Now, he had nobody.  The world just seemed to get a lot bigger and a lot darker all in one day.  Having so many thoughts racing through his head the final snap was knowing he was alone, knowing he could not turn to anyone or have anyone shelter him and the world was not kind to little orphan kids, all people cared about was their families and taking care of their own.  Who care’s if a child is suffering and need of caring.

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME?” the tears began falling like raindrops as he screamed at the marker.  There was no holding back the flood gates.  The thing was the more he cried, the angrier Arthur Morgan felt.  What did he do deserve this?  Why couldn’t he have the family like he had seen walking into towns.  Why couldn’t he be happy for once in his miserable life? 

Sniffing as snot began to also accompany the tears, he tried using his jacket to get rid of them to try and make his feelings go away along with them.  The tears blinding his vision, but the pain continued to pour out of him like a wild storm “WHY…COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN HIM INSTEAD OF YOU?  WHY DID YOU HATE ME SO MUCH TO DIE AND LEAVE ME HERE TO BE BY MYSELF?  WHY CAN’T I BE WITH YOU?” 

The weight in his chest was to heavy and he began sobbing as he looked down and saw a rock near his foot.  He bent down quickly grabbing it roughly into his hand and bringing hit back he tried to throw it as hard as he could muster at the headstone in front of him.  The rock barely made a dent in the headstone.  The sound of stone hitting stone made an echoing sound throughout the small cemetery.  As the rock rolled away Arthur just got angrier as though the headstone was mocking his sadness, his agony. his frustration.  He walked up and then bringing his foot back as far as he could he then used all the power he had in his leg to kick hard, instantly pain rip through his leg and up to his hip.  It felt good.  Made him feel alive with all the feelings swirling inside of him.  He then without thinking threw a punch at the headstone liking the pain it brought, he continued to bring back each fist and with all his weight he could muster Arthur hit the headstone again and again.  Arthur only stopped when his knuckles were a bloody mess and he fell with exhaustion onto his knees.  His head dipped low onto his chest as a few more tears escaped and continued to roll down the stream that was on his cheeks until they fell off into the dirt below.  When it seemed all the tears had run out of him and he felt like he could cry no more and his breathing finally came under control he pulled his head up and looked at the headstone again. 

Guilt then hit him as he saw what he had done to his Mother’s headstone.  Blood was visible where he had struck it numerus times and the stone did have a small chip from the rock he had thrown earlier.  He had damaged his mother’s memorial all because he was upset with the world.  Closing his eyes, he finally spoke after controlling his emotions again. 

“I’m sorry Momma, I just miss you.  I just…wish you were here. If you were here maybe you could tell me what to do.”  If he had to be truthful with himself right, then and there.  He could barely remember his mother.  All he had was a picture of her that he had taken and hidden just in case his father got into one of his moods again, like the one night he got piss ass drunk and burned all her belongings almost succeeding burning their home in the process.  He was very young when she had passed on from this world, leaving him with a man that saw him nothing but an inconvenience.  He was surprised his father didn’t leave him at an orphanage or do something much worse with him, though he tried a few times failing miserably in the process.    

Feeling completely drained he caught the smell of rain in the air and suddenly the thunder he had not heard all night was loud and clear in the background.  Standing up to leave he turned back around kissing his hand he placed it on the gravestone.  “I’ll come back and visit I promise.”  With that Arthur would turn around and walk away.  It was one of the first promises he’d make and would break for Arthur Morgan never returned to the cemetery to visit his mother’s gravesite. 

Arthur moved quickly back to the little shack they called a home.  He ran inside as the rain began to pour down on him.  The rain had started off as little droplets but as the storm moved in, the small droplets of rain turned into huge ones turning it into a torrential downpour.  He felt the humidity quickly disappear and soon he felt his body cooling he felt a shiver run through his entire core.  He grabbed a blanket and dried off quickly.  He couldn’t get sick.  He couldn’t afford it, his very life depended on it.  Who would take care of him?  How would he even begin to pay for medication, might as well right his obituary right then and there. 

Walking over to the bed he dropped the blanket off but then stopped when he saw his father’s hat.  It sat perfectly on the hook from the last time his father had touched it.  The man loved that hat more than life itself it seemed.  There were a few occasions Arthur had seen his father in a middle of a gunfight go back and get his hat.  Arthur was not sure why Lyle Morgan was so damn fond of it.  Arthur believed it belonged to his own Dad, his grandfather, but then again it wasn’t like Lyle Morgan was an open book, it was hard to say where the cowboy hat came from.  Hell, for all Arthur knew Lyle Morgan shot a man for that hat and kept it ever since, probably his first kill.  Honestly the way the hat sat perfectly on the hook it looked like it was just waiting for its owner’s return.  Sitting perfectly the way his Daddy had left it when he ran outside to take a piss in the middle of the night.  That was the sad truth fact though.  His Daddy didn’t get captured making a land stand, fighting a good fight with guns blazing.  No, Lyle Morgan had his dick in his hand when six bounty hunters walked up and surprised him.  Didn’t even let the man finish because when Arthur was woken up by the commotion, he saw his dad had piss all down his pants.  Could have least given the man the decency to top off. 

A sudden gust of wind took Arthur Morgan from his thoughts as the storm blew open the entrance and knocked over the lamp catching the dry wood of the table on fire quickly.  The fire spread without mercy as it raced across the floor and up the wall in a matter of seconds it seemed.  Arthur had no choice but to leave the homestead.  In a blind panic he realized he had only seconds to get out before he was lost with the home.  He went to leave but something stopped him he spun around and grabbed the hat off the hook and the picture of his father’s first conviction photo that his father had kept of himself.  He shoved the photo in his pants pocket, keeping the hat in his hand.  The smoke was becoming almost unbearable as the fire searched for oxygen to breathe and was almost making it hard to see anymore, Arthur only having to take two strong steps he was by his bedside and throwing stuff out of the way till he secured the one photo that meant the most to him, his mother’s photo.  He shoved that photo inside of his pants pocket as well.  Still holding the hat in his hand, he rushed out of the house coughing as the smoke had entered his lungs already.  He made a fist and hit his chest trying to get all the smoke out of his lungs.  He hacked and spit until he felt he was able to move without being sent into another coughing fit.  The rain already hitting his head and soaking him to the bone as he watched the flames climb higher and higher.  He slowly looked down at the hat in his hand.    

The black leather was beginning to show wear, but it gave the hat even more character, showed that it had been through tougher days.  The brown rope was still in great condition considering all it had been through.  He put a finger on it and touched it feeling the roughness and coarseness of the woven material and realized the hat meant more than just his father’s hat.  He was free from his father now.  No more nights of knowing the man was going to come home and beat the living piss out of him because a job went bad or trying to sell him to some upstate aristocrat that liked little boys.  Those memories were fading as quickly as the fire took the house.  The hat was a symbolism of his freedom of the man that he called father.  In a strange but weird way he idolized his father, the man did what he wanted, lived the way he wanted and answered to no man or law.  He lived his life to the fullest and Arthur couldn’t help but admire that.  Arthur decided right then and there, he’d be better than his father.  Be a faster, stronger, quicker gunslinger then his father ever could amount too.  Grabbing the photo out of his pocket he looked at the man wearing the hat.  His father’s eyes always had a look of killer in them, ready to fuck up anyone or anything that dare either talk wrong or even look at him sideways.  A natural born killer.  Arthur would and could be better then this man ever was a day in his life. 

Looking at the picture of his father he smiled.  “It’s mine now Pa.  What would you say?”  Shoving the picture of his father when he first got arrested into his pocket, he then placed the cowboy on his hat.  However, it wasn’t as great of a moment Arthur thought it would be when he finally placed the idolized hat on his head.  The hat was way too big for his head as it sunk past and made it so he could no longer see.  Taking one thumb he jammed it up.  Arthur knew it would take time before the hat would sit perfectly on his head, but he didn’t mind at all, he had the one thing his father loved and possessed that meant the world to him and soon no one would remember his father owning the hat, it would be solely considered to be Arthur Morgan’s hat. 

(Few Hours Later)

The wood was still smoldering by the time Arthur moved back into town.  The sun had set some time ago, and men were moving into the saloon to have a good evening of drunkenness and possibly other immoral actions of the evening.  However, Arthur did not care to do neither, he had to figure out what he was going to do and how was he going to get by for food and there was also his living conditions. 

“Pardon me.”  Arthur peeled his eyes up, not noticing they had been down the entire time.  He moved out of the way to make sure he was not causing anyone any trouble but with him moving out of the way he instantly recognized the well-dressed man from early in the day, the same man who had placed his hands on his shoulder to stop him from doing anything rash against his father’s hanging. 

The man was dressed very nicely and so was the man next to him.  Almost a little out of place for a town such as the one Arthur lived in.  Arthur turned around to watch the men who also turned to look at the kid but soon lost interest and continued on their way to the saloon hitching both their horses outside.  Arthur made his way across the street seeing if they were still paying him any attention but when they moved into the saloon Arthur came up with a plan.  Arthur waited long enough and looked around to see the town was becoming quiet as either people moved inside the bar or went home either way the streets were empty as he made his way towards the horses.  He looked to make sure nobody was noticing him as he searched the saddlebags finding a few things he could peddle for hard cash that would last him for quite a few months and it was then he suddenly had another idea, he needed a ride out of there.  Grabbing a handful of the loot from the first saddlebag, he then walked over to the other horse and placed it in the saddlebag.  As he moved his way to the front of the horse, he pat the female on the side of the neck.  The horse responded to him making a few noises, not recognizing the owner next to her but he soothed the horse as he continued to pat her on the neck, “you’re okay girl.”  He slowly climbed up onto the horse with no problem.  Not wanting to make a huge scene he slowly moved the horse into a trot and as he put his back to the town he kicked the horse into gear so by the time they realized their horse was missing he would be long gone.  Arthur smiled to himself.  It was his first robbery all on his own.  He couldn’t help but feel a sudden thrill and a push of adrenaline from the action he just completed.  ‘Ready or not world, here comes Arthur Morgan.’  Arthur thought as he left the town that caused him nothing but pain and misery.  He was ready to adventure into the world and see what it had to offer. 

(Few years later)

The world was not kind to a child looking to get by.  However, Arthur Morgan found his way from place to place.  He scrimped and scrapped his way through life from town to town.  Any time he wasn’t looking or planning to steal to just trying to get some food in his belly Arthur practiced.  He practiced till the point his fingers got aches in them, or until he was able to tell difference between the weight of his gun when it was loaded verses unloaded.  He used the exercise of throwing beer bottles up into the sky drawing his weapon and firing as they fell.  There were many times he would fail but as the days and months grew into years, he found he was getting better and better to the point he could not miss a shot.  There was not much he couldn’t do with his guns.  He could spin it, holster it, remove it in a flash and release the power of the weapon in a blink of an eye. 

“I’ll show you pretty boy!” 

However, it still seemed it didn’t stop from guys wanting to hit his face and call him pretty boy.  He never could understand that one.  He didn’t think he was much to look at but for some reason other men wanted to call him that.  He wasn’t sure how the fight really started, okay that was a lie.  He was apparently talking to the man’s woman, the same man that was currently trying to break his face in.  When he told the man to get lost, the man took offense to it.  He felt another punch rock him to the ground.  As another punch came to rain down on Arthur’s face, he was able to catch it and using the man’s awkward stance and momentum he was able to roll the man off him and make him take a tumble into the dirt himself.  Both men stood back up, however Arthur was quicker and pulled his gun and had it drawn.  The other man put his hands up to surrender his rage.

“Why don’t you put that gun away kid before you shoot your eye out or something,” the man said pointing a finger at him, some of the people that had surrounded them snickered and laughed at his comment. 

Arthur smiled himself, “I got a better idea, how about you dance for me.” 

The man looked at him and before he knew it Arthur was shooting at his feet, as he put a foot down another shot rang out as Arthur continued to do until he grew tired and stopped firing near the man’s feet.  Arthur then smiled and spun the gun around showing his flare and ability before holstering the weapon back in its rightful place.   Arthur then slowly turned around to walk away and pick his hat up when he heard somebody gasp and the sound of a gun leaving its holster.  Without even thinking he took a step so he was facing sideways turned his torso pulled the other arm out of the way and shot at him, hitting the man’s hat off and skinning the top part of his head.

“Next will be in your head mister.  You willing to chance that I have any more bullets in this gun or do you want to try me?” 

The man shook his head without saying another word turned around and left running away.  Arthur looked around the crowd to make sure nobody got any smart ideas and then turned back around fully and grabbed his hat off from the ground.  Using his leg, he dusted the hat off.  He felt somebody was staring at him and he looked around.  He then saw a pair of men staring at him and for a half second, he got Deja Vu.  He felt like he’d seen these men before but that was impossible. Deciding he had overstayed his welcome in this town he walked quickly to his horse, he was almost on his horse when the two men came up and stood behind him.  He breathed in deeply. 

“Fine looking horse.  Funny, I had the same looking one, same coloring and everything stolen from me few years back.” 

Fiddling with something on his saddle Arthur tried to play this out in his head.  This could either end with him walking out alive or him dead for stealing this man’s horse few years back.  How the hell was he so unlucky to run into the one man he’d stolen from?   Turning slowly around he saw that the two men still had a little height on him, one was a skinny blonde-haired man with a chiseled face the other one had jet black hair with a rounder face.  Yet still nicely dressed and seeming to look completely out of place in the shit hole town they were in, more suited for the town such as Saint Denis. 

“Not sure what you’re talking about mister, this was my Daddy’s horse given to me when he passed away suddenly.”

Arthur never felt so claustrophobic in his life, he was trapped between these two men and his horse.  He had no escape route from what he could see and if he didn’t get himself out of this situation quickly he was done for.  He was only bluffing with the man earlier, he truly had no more bullets in his gun after he shot the man’s hat off of him. 

“No, I never forget a face.  You’re that boy that watched his Pa swing.”  The other man with black hair spoke finally. 

Arthur hadn’t thought about that day in a long time, images came swirling back instantly.  His old man coming at him drunk, Lyle getting a distinct smile on his face when he was about to rob somebody, to the very last image of his old man swinging.  Shaking these memories, he shook his head. 

“I don’t know what boy your talking about, but ain’t me now excuse me gentlemen.”  Arthur got on his horse and quickly made his exit.  He breathed out a sigh of relief and even widen his eyes a little at the reality kicked in.  He had been lucky that the men allowed him to leave and stopping the conversation before it escalated into something worse.  As he began to make his way out of town, he reloaded his pistol not wanting to be caught again in such a dire situation without a loaded weapon he knew he needed to lay low for a while, two close calls back to back, he needed to be more careful. 

“THERE HE IS.  HURRY THE LITTLE SHIT IS GETTING AWAY!” 

Arthur turned around quickly to see if they were even regarding him but knowing deep down it was in fact directed completely at him.  Seeing the same man he had embarrassed just a little earlier come racing after him with other men on horses.  ‘Guess the man has friends and he didn’t like how that fight ended,’ Arthur thought.  He spurred his horse taking off hoping his horse was the fastest but as they got further away from the town they were slowly creeping up and as they shot at him he knew it was only a matter of time before they got lucky.  His horse suddenly reared at the sudden surprise of another horse on the path surprising them both.  Arthur tried desperately to grasp the saddle and reigns in time but found himself on his back on the ground with the wind knocked out of him as his horse took off without him.  Pure adrenaline now adding fuel to his body Arthur sprung back up not giving the other rider a chance to either shoot him or subdue him, he took off into the bushes and trees hoping he’d lose them in the woods, but Arthur once again found himself on his back as something suddenly was around his neck and dragging him backwards.  He realized suddenly it was a lasso, the bastard had lassoed his neck. 

“I GOT HIM!” 

Arthur tried to put a hand underneath the rope, so he could relieve the stress as it cut off his air supply.  He kicked out his legs as he tried to find ground to somehow get back up on his feet.   He reached for his sidearm and was able to unholster it but the man who had lassoed him came off his horse a lot quicker kicked his gun hand and punched him hard in the face stunning him for a second. 

“Stop squirming you little shit.” 

Arthur felt himself thrown quickly onto his stomach and his hands were tied tightly behind his back.  He was then turned back around, and the man grabbed him by the jacket and hauled him up.  Arthur was then turned back around so his back was to the man holding him prisoner, he then felt the man grab the rope near his neck and continued to keep it tight as a measure to control him.  The other men showed up forming a circle around Arthur and the man holding him captive. 

“He almost got away but he’s not so tough now are you pretty boy?”  The man then reached around and grabbed his cheek.  Arthur pulled away angrily but found the rope was tightened for retaliation and he began choking.  The man then released the rope just enough, so he could breathe again. 

When Arthur sucked in some air he saw the man he had embarrassed earlier get off his horse and stride to them. The man grabbed the back of his neck which then moved to his head roughly grabbing his hair into a twist he snarled as he brought back his fist and slugged Arthur right in the stomach.  He did this a couple times till Arthur’s legs involuntary lost their strength and he dropped to the ground onto his knees.  He began coughing as he tried to gain his breath.  The man kneeled down and unsheathed his knife bringing it up to Arthur’s neck which caused Arthur to still his hacking and moving. 

“I should just let these boys have you here and now,” slowly the man moved the knife up and around Arthur’s neck.  He could hear the men laughing and somebody let out a whistle.  All Arthur could do was watch silently, trying not to make any movements.  He kept his eyes forward.  He tried to still his heart that was beginning to pound loudly in his ears.  He was treating this man like the predator he was.  No sudden movements. Arthur knew he completely underestimated this man and now Arthur wasn’t sure he was going to make it out alive, “see, my boys.  They don’t like little girls…oh but you, you’re a fine looking young man, right up their alley,” looking back at his men, “isn’t that right boys?” 

Arthur could not help but look up at the other men surrounding them, maybe hoping to find some kind of pity or bluff in what this man was spilling out of his mouth but all he saw in the men’s eyes were something he had never seen before, lust.  Arthur felt something deep within his soul buck against this very thought and notion.  He had heard the horror stories, but who wants to ever to believe them. Arthur’s eyes went wide as suddenly he was manhandled to the ground.  Fearing the worst Arthur began renewing his struggle he began kicking and squirming even as the rope was pulled tight to stop his thrashing around however, he decided right then and there he’d rather be killed before he allowed such a thing to happen to him. 

“LET THE BOY GO NOW.” 

Everyone turned around to see the two men who had confronted Arthur earlier standing before them on two horses.  Both had rifles in their hands and aimed at the men surrounding Arthur. 

“I WILL NOT REPEATE MYSELF.” 

The thinner man of the two charged his weapon, “I think you may want to listen to my friend.  Let him go.”

“What business do you have with him?  Besides he’s ours, this doesn’t concern you.”

“He stole a horse from us many years ago.  We have been tracking him ever since.  We intend to see he is punished to the full extent of the law.”

Arthur had not much to say in the conversation even though they were talking about him.  If he had it his way, he wouldn’t go with either one of them, but if he truly had to decide he’d rather go with the two men.  Though in a few minutes he would not be going with anyone because the man was still holding the rope around his neck and depriving him of oxygen.  Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if this is how his father felt right before he died.  The feeling of complete hopelessness of knowing you were going to die and there was nothing you could do about it but then suddenly without any warning Arthur felt the rope loosen around his neck and the man holding the knife to his throat was gone.  Arthur was able to move his head to see the men backing away slowly not wanting to risk the fight.  They soon departed quickly on their horses.  Nothing was said between the three until the other men were out of earshot and eyesight.    

“Hosea cut the boy loose.” 

Arthur looked up at them skeptically. The man still holding the rifle in in one hand climbed off his horse and walked over to Arthur.  He heard the man take his knife out and suddenly a little tugging and sawing and his wrists were finally free with a snap of the rope giving way.  He rubbed them as though to wipe away the memory of them being tied up.  “Thanks.” Arthur mumbled. 

“So, I take it you’re not turning me in?”  Arthur asked. 

“No, dear boy we were just bluffing.  Why would we turn you in when we are outlaws ourselves?” 

Arthur let out of a bitty relief laugh.  Guess he could be lucky for once in his natural born life.   

“Something funny boy?”  The man on the horse who had yet to put away his rifle, though he had positioned it to be pointing towards the sky and not at him. 

“Just, y’all don’t look like it.  Dressed all fancy and, stuff.”  Arthur found himself dropping the last part not sure criticizing the two men that just saved his life was a good idea.  Then again, he wasn’t always the smartest boy around town. 

“Just because we live our lives on the run, does not mean we have to dress like degenerates.” 

“I don’t know what that means.”  Those were mighty big words for Arthur. 

“We haven’t been properly introduced, my name is Hosea Matthews and the man on the horse is Dutch van der Linde.  What’s your name kid?” 

“Not kid.  Morgan. It’s Arthur Morgan.” Arthur replied at Hosea. 

“Well I have a proposition for you Arthur Morgan.” Dutch putting away his rifle, he got off his horse and walked up to Hosea and Arthur.      

“A what?”  Confusion written all over Arthur’s face. 

“An offer to make.  You come run with us, will provide you some new clothes and a place to sleep and some food.”  Dutch said. 

“Why, why show me this kindness when no one else has or should.  Besides not to mention I stole your horse.”  He was skeptical.   They wanted something, but what?  What did they stand to achieve from someone such as Arthur?  He had nothing to give them.     

“Because Mr. Morgan, you need us at the moment and that is all you need to know,” holding out his hand “what do you say son.  Ride with us?”    

Arthur rubbed his chin, deep in thought.  He never thought about running with other people he thought it was normal to just do everything on your own.  However, the idea of someone else having your back when you had to have a fight looking forward, it would be nice to know somebody was watching his six for him.  Arthur then decided without thinking much of it took Dutch’s hand and shook it.  “You got yourself a deal mister.” 

“Fantastic.  I think this will be a start of a beautiful relationship.” Dutch said with a smile nodding his head at Hosea with a smile. 

Arthur would think about that first encounter he had with Dutch and Hosea many times.  When he was young, he was naive as any child at that age would be, not understanding that Hosea and Dutch already had a plan.  They needed a third person who was talented with guns, be their muscle, be that type of person who could bring the pain without blinking an eye or even thinking twice about what was being called upon to do.  They needed a loyal guard dog and in Arthur they could mold him into exactly what they needed.  Hosea and Dutch, they were the silver tongues, talk themselves out of anything and everything.  Yeah, Hosea and Dutch they could handle a gun if they wanted too but Arthur was the real talent when it came to weaponry.  They molded him into exactly what they needed and wanted him to be, a damn weapon itself.  However, Arthur did not mind that because it gave him a sense of purpose a person to be loyal to.  In a lot of respects, Hosea and Dutch would become father figures to him, somebody to admire and look up to, a hero that Arthur Morgan never truly had growing up around Lyle Morgan.    

(Few Years Later)

“ARTHUR FORGET THE DAMN HAT!”

“NO!” 

John and Arthur were pinned down after some bounty hunters had caught up to them.  They would have been long gone had Arthur not stopped turned back around to try and grab his hat.  They were getting surrounded quickly if they didn’t do something to even the odds. 

“Arthur what are you,” John was about to ask Arthur what he was up to until Arthur’s actions completely stopped him from completing his sentence. 

“I’ve always wanted to see what happens when I do this.” 

Arthur had pulled a stick of dynamite out of his satchel and was lighting it.  Turning and grinning at John he then chucked it at the group of bounty hunters bunched up.  Arthur took cover and put his two fingers into his ears to block out the sound.  As the sound vibrated through the canyon and the sound of screaming could be heard, Arthur left his cover and charged for his hat.  He picked it up dusting it off on his leg as he picked it up and checking to see if anything had happened to his beloved item.  Placing the hat back on his head he felt at peace again knowing it was with him.  Looking past the brim of the hat he saw the bounty hunters were beginning to collect their senses and get back up on their feet.  Arthur turned back around started running with John in toe.  He gave a sharp whistle along with John and both their horses ran right through the bounty hunters knocking them over again as Arthur and John continued to run.  Both horses caught up to their respectively owners and both made it up onto their horses with no issue as they spurred their horses, leaving the bounty hunters in their dust.  It was only a few minutes later that John Marston broke the silence. 

“What is with you and that damn hat, Arthur?” 

Arthur gave a half smile and turned to John as they had long stopped running their horses to the ground and began walking the beasts to give them a break. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you when your older.” 

Arthur could see the disbelief on John’s face, “When I’m older?  I’m twenty-one!” 

“Like I said, maybe when your older.” 

Arthur was happy that John did not push him any further about the issue.  He was very protective of his past and John knew it.  Then again, what was there to talk about?  The past was the past for a reason and why go dreading it?  All John needed to know was Arthur loved his hat, he didn’t need to know why and how he got it and what the backstory was.  All John needed to know was one simple thing, it was and always will be Arthur’s hat. 

~FINIS~

**Author's Note:**

> Ending Notes: First, I decided that the photo Arthur has of the dog, it would come later in life. Just can’t see his father allowing him to have a dog and to even take a damn picture of the thing just didn’t fit in my world I guess. Second, I kind of thought of Arthur as a teenager kind of like as the deputy, Whitey Winn from Godless, if you haven’t watched it you should it’s a great series! Third, I decided to make Hosea’s hair blonde. I couldn’t find any reference of any mention of what his hair color was from what I could tell before it went white but from the picture of the three amigos it looked blonde to me lol so that’s what I’m going with. 
> 
> Well, hope you found some enjoyment out of it!! Till next time y’all, LATER YO!


End file.
